


a beast of a burden

by voodoochild



Series: Challenge on Infinite Earths [2]
Category: The Hour
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Dystopia, F/M, Forced Pregnancy, Impregnation, Medical Procedures, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:22:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voodoochild/pseuds/voodoochild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one tells you what it's like after the end, or what humanity will do to get back to "normal".</p><p>(PLEASE read the notes for full list of trigger warnings.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	a beast of a burden

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 2 of the [Challenge on Infinite Earths](http://mizaerable.tumblr.com/post/37318772896/challenge-on-infinite-earths-is-a-30-day), for the prompt "Zombies". Title from "What the Water Gave Me" by Florence & the Machine.
> 
> Universal particulars taken from World War Z, but I don’t think you can really call this either a crossover or a fusion. Influences also from The Walking Dead, Anita Blake, and The Handmaid’s Tale. Also, please be warned for explicit descriptions of rape, forced consent, sexual slavery, human experimentation, and forced impregnation. Please do not read if you’re at all triggered by any of these subjects. Also note, zombie fiction is not really my wheelhouse at all, so I went in more of a body horror/dystopian direction.

The latest mandate from what's left of Parliament consists of what everyone's calling the "breeding factories". 

Every woman past her first menstrual period and before menopause is required to undergo fertilization; has to be strapped onto an examination table and impregnated either the old-fashioned way or using IVF techniques. They claim it's necessary for the survival of the human race, that the revenants so hopelessly outnumber the humans that humanity *has* to breed, that the procedure will be done as humanely and painlessly as possible. The BBC's been ordered to tell the populace as such.

Lix knows better, because hell is outside their door and is littered with intentions like this. The footage has already been leaked showing mass arrests in Russia and South Africa of women protesting the laws, and there are reports of mass rapes in Korea. The world needs fighters, and half the surviving population can make new ones. 

Protest is useless, because they lost Freddie long ago and he's the only one who could have made a go of it. Hector has been beaten down, dead-eyed under the brim of his hat, ever since he lost Marnie. Bel cries in Hector's arms, Lix's arms, even sometimes in Randall's arms, and she only stops when it's her turn for patrol, when she picks up her shotgun and takes out as many revenants as she has bullets. They're all outraged at the mandate, but anything that will give them an edge against the revenants is hope. 

It's all they've got.

Lix foolishly believes they won't come for her right away. Sissy and Bel, yes, they're young and in their prime. She's older, nearly to the age where she'd be going through menopause, her genes aren't anything special. She's so very wrong - the medics come for her first. Trials, you understand. Breed those who have already bourne children first, because they've proven fertile and hardy enough for it. 

They don't give her a choice as to the method, because impregnation has to be tried both ways, for the best chance of success. They do give her the choice of "donor", and for a moment, she lets herself dream of a little girl with curly hair and Randall's eyes. She can't bring herself to say his name, though; she won't give their child up again. Won't put Hector through losing another child, either, and in the end, she simply turns her face to the wall and tells them they can run a lottery for all she cares. 

The man they choose is tall and dark-skinned. He has lovely green eyes, and he thinks to ask her what she wants him to do before he unzips his trousers. She tells him the truth - she doesn't care, because she has very little choice in the matter. He's sweet, talks the medics into unstrapping her, makes it as good for her as possible and tries not to hurt her. It isn't horrible, and she waits for the medics to complete the IVF procedure in a haze. 

She doesn't ask what will happen if she conceives. She'll be taken to one of the factories, wired up to monitors and drugged to the gills until she has the child. Then they'll turn her loose. 

The only reason she isn't lunch for the revenants is because the medics escort her back to Lime Grove. Can't have a potential incubator either eaten or turned. Sissy and Bel meet her at the door, shrill in their concern for her and fear for what will happen to them. She shakes them off, consoling hands on her back. Her skin is crawling and she wants nothing more than a shower and a dark and silent room. But she has the girls to reassure, answer their questions and tell them it's only half as horrible as they think it will be. Stroke their hair back, forget they're both killers a dozen times over even if Sissy still flinches when she pulls a trigger, prepare them as much as she's able.

Twenty minutes later, she has to stumble down the stairs to where they've set up the cots in Studio D. It's mid-day, it'll be deserted. She hasn't been able to wash the sterilization gel from her skin because the water ration's been used for today. If she can't be clean, she can at least be alone.

Except the cots, the partitions, the schedules they've made up for basic duties - everything's been mis-ordered and then meticulously re-ordered, and she knows immediately why. How. Randall stands amid a pile of blankets he's torn off cots, folding them crisp and clean again. Military corners, and she must make some noise, because he looks up at her. His eyes are lost, seawater-blue, and she nearly cries.

His voice is soft, broken. "Please tell me you're all right."

"I don't - I can't answer that," she says, nails cutting into her palms. "What if . . . if there's a . . . I couldn't do that again."

Her voice cracks, her hands shaking. She can still feel the burn between her legs, foreign and invasive because it's not from him. She doesn't know if she wants to fling herself at him and cover herself in his scent, his marks, or never, ever be touched again. 

"The child," he starts, pulling at the edge of a blanket in a telltale fashion. "It would-"

"They'll take her. Or him. It would belong to them."

He closes his eyes, and she isn't surprised when he rips the blanket in two, letting the pieces drop uselessly at his feet. Her skin feels like it's going to melt off her bones, and she forces herself to walk over to him. Reaches out with everything she has, because everything *hurts*, and he folds her into his arms. 

"I woke up and you were gone. Again." It's a whisper against her hair, his lips pressing gently to her temple. "Don't leave me. Please don't leave me."

She tightens her arms around him, breathing in his scent. "They came for me. I didn't want to go."

Randall lets go of her only long enough to draw her down onto their pushed-together cots. She can't stop shaking, can't focus on where her body is and what she's doing. Randall asks, over and over, what she needs him to do, but all she can manage to tell him is not to let go.


End file.
